The Spirit War(35)

Whitefall let out a tight sigh. “As you like,” he said. “Tesset, arrest the traitor.”

Tesset stepped out onto the smooth marble, watching Banage warily as the attack played out in his head. The tall Rector had reach on him, but the man was not a hand-to-hand fighter. The hardest part would be taking him down before he could call his spirits. Quick jab to the stomach should be enough. Decision made, Tesset dropped and began to run. But fast as he was, Banage was faster. Just before his fist landed, a wall of wind sent Tesset flying.

He turned in the air and landed on the Merchant Prince’s table, catching an ink pot just before it blew into Sara’s face. Across the room, Banage stood in the center of a small tornado, his robes flying like flags.

“Keril,” the Rector said, and the pale blue stone on his index finger flashed like a small sun. The wind intensified, forcing Tesset to a crouch as he shielded Whitefall and Sara.

Tesset squinted against the wind. Banage was moving his other hand now, bringing a green cabochon of glowing jade to his lips.

“Duesset,” he said, his deep voice clear over the roar of the wind.

The entire hearing chamber rang like a bell, and then, with a roar that cracked the windows, an enormous creature exploded through the stone floor. Tesset’s eyes widened. It looked like a warhorse carved from jade, but it was larger than any horse Tesset had ever seen. The creature lowered its head, and its stone mane fell into easy steps for the Rector to climb onto its back.

Banage looked down on Sara, Tesset, and Whitefall from the creature’s back, his face a stone mask.

“I am the voice of the Spirit Court,” he announced, his words booming through the room. “I speak for us all, and I say this: The Spirit Court exists for the spirits. Just as we will never allow them to be coerced, so shall we never allow ourselves to be ordered to war by an outside authority. Fight the Empress with your own blood, Alber, for you shall have none of ours.”

With that, the wind gave one final howl, shattering the large glass windows that looked out over the city. As the glass fell, the stone horse leaped, carrying Banage through the broken window. It landed with a crash in the courtyard below, but when Tesset ran forward, all he saw was a crater in the paving stones and the flick of the jade horse’s tail as it charged the citadel gate. The iron bars crumpled like paper as the creature galloped through them, its stone feet striking the cobbles like smithy hammers on new iron as it vanished down the street and into the city below.

“Well,” Whitefall said, pulling himself up. “That could have gone better.”

“Could it?” Sara said, reaching out her hands for Tesset to help her up. “How many times have I told you? You can’t speak sense to Banage. The nerve of that man, forcing his morals on the whole world. Spiritualists poking their noses into my workshop, can you imagine?” She shook her head. “You were right to turn him down, Alber. If they discovered the truth of the Relay, we’d have a full-out rebellion on our hands.”

“I’m not sure we won’t as it is,” Whitefall said, his voice tired. “But I had hoped to avoid breaking the Court.”

“It was already broken,” Sara said with a sniff. “Banage is a fanatic. There’s no place for him in an order as old and vested in its power as the Spirit Court. Forcing him to reject conscription was the best thing you could have done. Some of the old guard will stick to Banage’s banner of high morality, but the majority of Spiritualists won’t risk treason just to keep their hands clean, especially not when they can say they were only fighting for their country.”

Tesset had to agree. In one move, Whitefall had taken Banage’s ultimatum and turned it around, forcing the Rector Spiritualis into the weakest position possible. If the Merchant Prince had simply let him leave the first time he refused, or worse, threatened him with force, Banage could have stood on his principles, turning himself and his supporters into moralistic objectors. But with the conscription notice, Whitefall had backed Banage up against his own ultimatum. He could no longer stay aloof. It was give in and go with the Council as a conscript or be declared a traitor. Of course, Banage had still refused, but in refusing he’d doomed his own chances at keeping the lion’s share of the Court. After all, while there were plenty of Spiritualists who would have jumped at the chance to avoid the war by siding with their Rector, only the true fanatics would be willing to be branded traitor for him. Tesset grinned. He loved a good turn-about.

“Get the message out to your contacts among the Tower Keepers, Sara,” Whitefall said. “The Council will welcome any Spiritualists who wish to fight for their homes. Those who join Banage will be declared traitors, and their property and lands will be seized.”